


Lord Sinclair Gets Pissy

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Just a bit of fluff, but one that gives some needed bits to make better sense of some follow-up stories, especially 'Maxie and the East End Truce' (coming up in another day or so), and 'Advanced Math' (a little farther down the line).  Lord Sinclair, for those who don't remember, was featured in 'Bottacelli.   I know, I know, but they can't ALL be explosions and espionage and heated passion!





	Lord Sinclair Gets Pissy

She hadn't really noticed the decline in invitations; after all, she just piled the ones she received on the side of her desk, went through them once a week or so if she was home; she sent 'Regrets' for about ninety-eight percent of them immediately, pondered over the remaining two percent, and depending on her mood, might accept one or two, but only if she was getting pressure from Kevin Richards for one reason or another. Otherwise she blissfully remained free from social obligations of the 'toff' variety.

The only regret she had was that she did have a weakness for fine fabrics, and certainly her usual occupations of working behind enemy lines and gardening did not run to that sort of attire, and she chose not to be self-indulgent unless there was a true need for such things. Still, dressing up for social engagements DID allow her to indulge in that rather embarrassing weakness, though she limited herself to just three really elegant items, items that could be changed with jewelry or scarfs or overlays or such - one in a deep midnight blue, almost but not quite black; one in a deep rich green; one in a deep bronze. She kept to the colors that she enjoyed, that suited her, in fabrics that pleased her both in sight and in touch. Her family knew that and, while not trying to tempt her into any unwanted social interactions (most of them feeling much as she did about such things), did keep her informed of any particularly intriguing materials they came into possession of, and her younger sister Coura had a stack of designs she'd drawn with her sisters in mind, just in case.

Mostly the young redhead wore denim and cottons and other such materials, along with the military khaki's and fatigues she was issued. Plain, simple, purposefully not aimed to draw attention, not to show off her rather lush attributes; that had just seemed best when she moved to live alone in this place at the age of fourteen, her figure not having changed much in the intervening years. Nondescript was what she generally aimed for, and that was what the village and its inhabitants were accustomed to seeing her as.

Coura and the others had a habit, though, of making their Solstice gifts something rather special, things they thought Meghada would relish, whether it be books or music or new plants or seeds for her garden. Now they let their minds turn to adornment rather than books or music, especially since it now appeared she had someone she might like to appear at her best for, and since the final days of her contract were drawing closer and it was no longer so imperative that she keep her light so much under that basket. In fact, the family had had a wonderful time deciding on just would be best this holiday season, and thought they'd hit it rather nicely. If it was more lavish than the norm, well, they figured it would do her no harm to be rather pampered for once.

Now, opening the packages Ian had dropped off to her earlier, her being unable to attend the Solstice party with her family due to an assignment in Brussels, she smiled as she ran her hand over what lay inside. The top one, medium blue denim, but of a softness and suppleness she'd not seen before in that fabric - a shirtwaist dress, she discovered as she shook it out, full gathered skirt that reached to her ankles, full without being bulky in the least, snug bodice fitted with darts front and back, long sleeves with cuffs complete with flat pearl buttons, and a long row of matching buttons from top to bottom. Next was another dress, similar design, but this in a warm coppery material that came within a few of shades of matching her hair. The creamy brown shirtwaist blouse, with the darker brown skirt, was as lovely as the others, but she had to spare a moment to wonder just what was with all the buttons; from what she'd seen in the magazines, those weren't quite so in vogue this season, and Coura usually kept on top of such things.

The enclosed note, however, explained, and she blushed as she gave a laugh, "sister, don't you just love buttons? I mean, how they button, how they unbutton, all with just a touch of talented fingers?? So much promise, so much potential." The one evening dress didn't have buttons, but that made sense; she'd not likely be wearing that around anyone whose talented fingers she would be wanting to fool around with them. Instead it had bronze buckles at the gathered shoulder straps, matching the luscious bronze slubbed silk; that dress was elegant, showing off her figure, and as long as she was careful, was reasonably proper; of course, that long (long!) slit at the side would prove problematic - she figured she would need to practice with that to keep it from opening to the top of her thigh! Then, she discovered the tiny fabric tabs that would hold it closed as far down (up?) as she wanted, and felt a little more confident. It might prove helpful to have that slit sometime, thinking of the knife sheath/garters she wore on occasion.

As usual, the family had gone together on their presents, coordinating, some obtaining the materials, some commissioning Coura for the designs, the making of the garments. The present this year from her parents, now that was special also.

"Thought Marik might like to do something other than weapons - initially he was rather bewildered at the request, but we were pleased at the results, and hope you will be as well. He was inspired by some of those early drawings we took him, the ones of the Red Dragon, the Red Duchess in various regalia, and now he says he might just consider adding such things to his repertiore."

Well, of course she was pleased; bronze pieces for her hair, to enhance her usual braided coronet, not a crown or diadem but something that did have a rather regal effect; a necklace in a rather barbaric design and obviously made with the neckline of that gown in mind, and long earrings to match. Her brothers had followed suit, with wide bronze rings, two sets of four each, each four joined by thin bronze chains; in effect, two lovely sets of 'brass knuckles', again barbaric, but something she could pull off wearing in high society, since she was known for being an original. She discovered the wide bronze bracelets had tiny links to allow the matching chains to connect to those rings as well, and she just had to try them on to see the effect. She had to chuckle, "barbarian woman warrior, indeed!" 

It was Julie who finally brought it to her attention, with a phone call. "And are you going to the Masterson's dinner party? Well, of course you are; it was silly of me to ask, but I was wondering what you were wearing. I found the most delightful little dress, but it is really close to the dark green you sometimes wear, although something I have never worn, but didn't want to have it look like we were trying to coordinate, you know."

She cast a look over her calendar, found no social engagements at all for the next month, and told Julie that. There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line and then a hesitant, "but if not the Masterson's dinner party, what about the dance at Lord Sinclair's, and the tea with Lady Carlisle? Surely . . ." and Meghada suddenly came to the realization that she not only hadn't received invitations to those, she'd received only three during the past several weeks, all items she'd declined. She pulled those out of the cubby she kept such things and explained to Julie Richards, who was appalled.

"But whyever would you not?" and then Meghada remembered, and in the remembering started laughing and had a hard time stopping.

She related the little Bottacelli incident to Julie, well, annotated somewhat, and ended by chuckling, "I expected him to be livid, of course, and Carlisle's pride and joy was involved in that little fiasco, and isn't Fairfax connected to the Masterson's somehow? That leaves only Armbruster and his connections to get in on the act. I never thought that little affair, and the incident at the Mansion would have such a lovely result! Oh, Julie, it looks like my calendar is not only clear, but will remain clear," she enthused.

Julie was not nearly so amused; she had a bit of a hero worship thing going with the O'Donnell woman, though not a crush as she didn't tend in that direction, and relished the time they spent in each other's company. Now, at the idea of that idiot Lord Sinclair spoiling what was often the highlight of her socializing, Julie was highly indignant.

"Well, we'll just see about that! Nasty little twerp! I know Kevin said those four were men I should not get too friendly with, but I never guessed . . . ! Crowley?? Really?? How disgusting!! How wonderful you were able to foil that nastiness!" She spared a giggle, "did you really tell him that??! Oh, I do wish I could have seen his face!"

They chatted a bit, Meghada always trying to be kind to the woman no matter how annoying she could be sometimes, trying to get her involved in societal affairs the Dragon had absolutely no interest in. Still, many a time she had to stop and force herself to be patient, keep her temper in check. Frankly, the redhead didn't understand the attraction Julie had developed for her; she could tell it wasn't romantic, but it did seem odd that Julie, a good six or seven years older than her, would hold her in such esteem, especially considering how different they truly were. Sometimes she felt Julie wore a mask too, and was perhaps both smarter and less foolish than she let herself appear.

Meghada did sigh in resignation when she answered the phone the next afternoon to greet Louise Masterson who was "absolutely appalled, my dear Miss O'Donnell, when dear, dear Julie informed me you hadn't received the invitation I'd sent you to my little dinner party! Why, I was absolutely counting on you coming, you know, and although it's now rather short notice, I do SO hope you can come!" Since Louise Masterson was someone Meghada could actually tolerate, if not particularly enjoy, and since her entertainments usually turned out to be endurable, she gave in.

Julie was on the phone within the hour, and it was determined that, yes, Julie could wear that emerald green, that Meghada would be in bronze. Personally Meghada though emerald was a little strong for Julie's complexion, but she had no intention of spoiling the woman's delight in that new dress, only offering the mild suggestion that "and perhaps a touch of ivory, to enhance your hair and skin? Perhaps a scarf, rather like a fichu, in a creamy ivory lace; it seems that would really set off that neckline you described, you know, especially with that emerald broach I've seen you wear; perhaps just nestled in at one side," with Julie eagerly latching onto that suggestion. {"Besides, that dinner party coincides with the guys' leave, and lets me do something a little special for them."}

She thought gleefully about that little hotel her family now owned a share in, those rooms set aside for family use; that little restaurant where Marcel was now the chef, putting out food she knew Goniff would truly relish. She thought putting up with Louise Masterson and her "intimate little affair, just two dozen or so, dinner and dancing" at one of the more select gathering places in London was well worth it. The thought that it would also give Goniff a good look at her in that bronze outfit, well, that was only a plus, and one that brought a smile to her face. Her laddie could usually do that, even when no one else could. She rather thought his talented fingers could find a way to get her OUT of that bronze outfit in record time, even if there were no buttons involved. After all, those rooms all had adjoining doors; they were kept locked, but it didn't mean they all had to stay that way.

It wasn't long before the invitations started streaming back in; Meghada cynically thought it was more in the hopes of discovering the names of her dress and jewelery designers than in the joys of her company; Erdu knows she made no attempt to make them particularly 'joyful' of her company. Oh, she was not invited to that dance at Lord Sinclair's, nor the tea with Lady Carlisle, although the august Lady Armbruster did extend an invitation to her soire, which Meghada graciously declined, pleading a prior engagement.

Now there was a different type of socializing she was far more interested in, comfortable times with her own laddie, along with playing hostess to her love and HIS love, or the one who would BE his love if those two ever came to the mutual realization that had been so evident to her for some time now, providing a safe place for their relationship to grow strong and enduring. Add that to a role of sister and sometimes house-mother for her laddie's brothers-in-spirit, and she would have been well content. Of course, the war still caused her to be called upon, and she had her duty to the Clan, and all that the Cottages and the Village required of her. No, she had no interest in becoming the social butterfly Julie Richards kept urging her to be. Well, she was a Dragon, not a butterfly, and she'd never heard of a 'social Dragon', no, not in any of the stories she'd heard growing up, and she rather snorted at the thought. Still, the roles she did HAVE, she was content with, and some of them, very well content with.


End file.
